


only liars

by orphan_account



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe- Twins, Angst, Crack, Crack Fic, Crack Treated Seriously, Hurt/Comfort, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, M/M, More tags to be added?, Sibling Incest, Twincest, Twins, but its semi-realistic crack, idek, ok im sorry but, seriously, stop me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-12 11:11:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7100725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“These are baby pictures, alright.” Pete informs him. “Hey, there’s definitely a second kid scribbled out in black marker. You <em>totally</em> have a secret twin!”</p>
<p>“Okay.” Patrick mutters, setting a huge baseball card collection in the “don’t know” pile.</p>
<p>“You aren’t even remotely surprised by this information.” Pete says, a tone of questioning to his statement.</p>
<p>“Nope.” Patrick answers, popping the ‘p’. “If I have a secret twin, it’s not like I’ve ever met them. Therefore, it doesn’t matter.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not even sorry tbh
> 
> If you have a problem with incest and didn't read the tags, shoo
> 
> If you have a problem with incest an you did read the tags, but you're here anyway...um...why?
> 
> It was my idea in the first place, but again, you can blame Crescent for encouraging me
> 
> And also my girlfriend for having a twin sister and giving me this idea. @ Emily go ahead and blame yourself
> 
> (Also happy birthday Pete! This is what I'm doing on it...whoops)
> 
> So without further ado...whatever this is

Patrick’s phone rings insistently. He groans and reaches to the side table by his bed. His arm hits the lamp before he can finally get it, but luckily hotels have a habit of predicting sleepy people and bolting down their lamps.

He manages to get a hand on his phone, and answers it sleepily. “H’llo?”

“Oh, I’m sorry! Did I wake you up?” Comes the voice on the other line.

Patrick sighs. “Oh, hi Mom. No, no, it’s fine.”

“Good.” His mom says, a smile in her voice. She always has a smile in her voice. Patrick likes that. “You’re in town right now, right?”

Patrick nods, then realizes that she can’t see him nod over the phone, and says, “Yeah, we’ve got a night off tonight then two shows. Why, what’s up?”

“Oh, I was just wondering if you could help me for a little.” His mom replies. “I’m cleaning out the attic, and arthritis is being a pain.” She pauses to laugh. “Literally! But, anyways, if you could come over today, maybe, and help go through some old stuff up there, that’d be great.”

Patrick nods again, internally cursing himself for not remembering that people on the phone can’t see you. “I can do that. Uh, if I come over at ten, does that work?”

“Yes, that’s great. I’ll see you then.” His mom agrees. “Bye, hon.”

“Mhm.” Patrick mumbles, slightly rudely hanging up on his mom. He slams his phone down. The hotel clock tells him it’s 9:15. He should really get going.

So he falls asleep again.

~*~

“Oh, we are _so_ late.” Pete says gleefully.

“Shut up, I was tired.” Patrick mutters, trying not to drive too fast.

Pete had insisted on coming along because “Old attic stuff is _cool_ , Patrick! And maybe your mom has a million dollars secretly hidden away!”. Patrick seriously doubted that last part, and asked Pete if he’d been reading that book about the group of kids who treasure hunt to make money so it seems like they were working again, and Pete had just whispered “but the author is gay!”.

As far as Patrick was concerned, Pete was just annoying.

They finally make it to Patrick’s mom’s house, and pull into the driveway. He gets out of the car and walks to the door, followed by Pete, who is now listing off gay authors.

“Let’s see...Shakespeare! Shakespeare was gay! Did you know that?” Pete says excitedly as they reach the door.

Patrick laughs. “Yes, I did. Did you know only one Roman emperor was straight?”

“Whoa! Really?” Pete asks, seeming genuinely amazed by that.

“Yes, really.” Patrick nods, knocking twice on the door.

Almost immediately, his mom opens it and hugs him. Patrick laughs and hugs back. “Mom, I can’t breathe.”

“If you couldn’t breathe, you wouldn’t be talking.” His mom tells him, grinning, but lets go anyway.

“Oh, shut up.” Patrick says good-naturedly. 

His mom finally notices Pete. “Oh, you brought Pete! It’ll be good to have an extra set of hands for the cleaning.”

“Yeah, I’m here too!” Pete says, waving.

Patrick’s mom makes a big show of hugging Pete, too. “Good to see you again.”

“Mhm.” Pete mutters, trying to pull out of her death grip.

When he finally escapes, he asks, “So, we’re just looking through the stuff in the attic?”

“Yes.” Patrick’s mom nods. “If you see anything that’s obviously junk, put it in a garbage bag. I left some up there for you. Anything you know I’ll want to keep, leave where it is. Anything questionable, put in a pile.” She beams. “I’ve got lemonade if you need refreshments.”

“Sounds good.” Patrick says.

“Let’s go clean up an attic!” Pete exclaims, pulling Patrick away by his arm.

“Pete!” Patrick complains, but Pete keeps pulling him until they’re in the attic.

When Pete releases his death grip on Patrick’s arm, Patrick rubs his arm and looks around.

“Shit, that’s a _lot_ of boxes.” Pete says in a hushed voice, voicing Patrick’s thoughts aloud.

“Yeah, a lot.” Patrick repeats, nodding.

Pete breaks into a grin. “Then we should get started!”

An hour later, it feels like they’ve barely made a dent in the boxes and knickknacks stacking up everywhere. Patrick is busy studying an ornate lamp with sparkly swirl designs on its lampshade when Pete yells something at him. “Hey, Patrick...you were born April 27, 1984...right?”

Patrick rolls his eyes as he throws a ratty cupid plush into a trash bag. “Yes, idiot. You know that.”

“You’re absolutely sure.” Pete says, his tone unreadable.

“ _Yes_. I’m pretty sure I know my own birthday.” Patrick rolls his eyes and tosses twenty identical wooden rulers into the trash bag as well.

“Okay, sure...” Now Pete’s tone is distinguishable. He sounds confused, and a little bit nervous. “So then why is there a box labeled ‘Patrick’s birth photos: June 5, 1979’?”

“There...is?” Patrick frowns and tries to focus on deciding whether or not a broken lava lamp is worth keeping. “That’s weird.”

“Uh huh.” Pete says agreeably. “Hey, wait. No, it’s actually ‘Patrick and...’ well, someone’s. There’s another name, but it’s scribbled out. Do you have a secret twin you never told me about?”

“Not that I know of.” Patrick responds, throwing out a large rock that he isn’t sure even has a reason for being here in the first place.

“I’m opening it.” Pete announces, and Patrick hears the sound of ripping cardboard and tape.

“Pete, don’t.” Patrick says half-heartedly. It’s already too late, anyway.

“These are baby pictures, alright.” Pete informs him. “Hey, there’s definitely a second kid scribbled out in black marker. You _totally_ have a secret twin!”

“Okay.” Patrick mutters, setting a huge baseball card collection in the “don’t know” pile.

“You aren’t even remotely surprised by this information.” Pete says, a tone of questioning to his statement.

“Nope.” Patrick answers, popping the ‘p’. “If I have a secret twin, it’s not like I’ve ever met them. Therefore, it doesn’t matter.”

“Ooh, more photos are under the bottom flap of the box!” Pete exclaims. He seems like a little kid who’s just found all the easter eggs. “Maybe these ones will include the other kid!”

“Mhm.” Patrick mutters, not really caring, then pauses. “Hey, wait. Isn’t June 5, 1979 your-”

He’s cut off by Pete screaming, “Holy _shit_!”

Patrick turns his head to see Pete gaping at a few pictures in his hand and violently flipping through them. “What?”

Pete turns to him, eyes wide. “So...you’ve seen my baby pictures, right?”

“Uh huh.” Patrick nods slowly, not quite sure where this is going.

“So tell me.” Pete says just as slowly. “In this picture, the other kid isn’t scratched out. And...” He inhales sharply. “It’s you, and...” He holds up the photo, and Patrick does a double take.

“Wait, is that you?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. He still isn’t one hundred percent sure where this is going, though he does have an idea, and he doesn’t like it.

Pete nods frantically. “Do you realize what this means?”

Patrick shakes his head slowly. “No, not really.”

Pete’s eyes are still wide as he whispers, “Patrick. _We’re twins_.”

Patrick, admittedly, screams bloody murder. What the actual fuck. That can’t be right. That _can’t_ be right.

“We don’t even look alike at all.” He says quietly, and it’s his only condolence that this could be wrong.

“Well, actually, not all twins are identical.” Pete points out, shattering Patrick’s hopes. “That would mean we’re fraternal-”

“Shut _up_.” Patrick hisses under his breath. He does _not_ need to talk about this right now.

“Are you two okay?”

Patrick whirls around to see his mom (Is she his mom? He isn’t quite sure who his parents actually are anymore.) standing in the door, looking concerned. His scream must have made her come up to check on them.

“Oh, we’re fine.” Patrick says, voice laced with anger. “But _you_...” He snatches one of the photos from Pete’s hand and holds it up. “Have a lot of explaining to do.”

Patrick’s mom’s eyes widen, face paling. “Oh, I...I can explain.”

“I should hope so.” Patrick hisses, crossing his arms. “Go ahead. Explain.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exposition! Fighting! Lemonade! 
> 
> What could possibly go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hey hey big thanks to stabmewithaspork for giving me motivation to continue so quickly
> 
> and @ Crescent wyd please email me back
> 
> Without further ado...enjoy!

Patrick stares his mom down. “Go ahead, then. Explain.”

“It’s...kind of a long story.” She says slowly, scratching the back of her neck and laughing nervously. “Would you prefer to go downstairs and have this talk over some lemonade?”

“I like lemonade!” Pete speaks up, raising his hand and waving it in the air like a kindergartner.

“Shut up.” Patrick says, shooting him a death glare. Pete drops his hand, and shoots a death glare right back.

“So...downstairs, then?” Patrick’s mom asks slowly, causing Patrick and Pete to turn back to her.

Patrick nods, but doesn’t say anything, retaining his death glare.

Once they’re all downstairs, sitting around the dining room table with a cup of admittedly delicious lemonade, Patrick’s mom clears her throat.

“So...” She laughs nervously again. “You probably have a lot of questions.”

“No. Really.” Patrick says in a dry, sarcastic voice.

She looks down and sips her lemonade. “If you’re going to ask, ask.”

Pete raises his hand, and Patrick rolls his eyes.

“Yes?” His mom asks.

“Am I adopted?” Pete asks, dropping his hand. 

Patrick’s mom smiles in a way that can only be described as not-quite-sadly. “Well, yes. You are.”

“Huh.” Pete leans back, slurping up a sip of his lemonade.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Patrick asks angrily, still death glaring for all it’s worth.

“I didn’t think...I never thought it would come up.” Patrick’s ( _their_ ) mom admits, sighing. “And if I’m honest, I didn’t even really know who Pete was until I accidentally found all the papers and such about a month ago and realized...”

Patrick mutters something that he probably shouldn’t be saying about or even near his mother, then hazards a final question. “So..what is this ‘long story’?”

“Well...” Patrick’s (god, _their_ ) mom’s gaze drops down to the floor. “I...I wasn’t really aware I was going to have twins. I was only ready to care for one kid, I didn’t...I didn’t exactly have the money for two. So...I had to put one up for adoption. And, well...I guess the rest is history.”

“Fuck.” Patrick says decisively. Screw the unspoken No Swearing In Front Of Your Mother rule. “Fuck, I...I have to go.”

Without another word, he gets up and leaves, leaving his lemonade sitting there. His mom tries to call after him, but he isn’t paying attention. He can hear Pete start to get up too, so he breaks into a run and bolts through the front door. He isn’t sure how long he runs for, but he makes it to a park and slows down. He finds a nearby bench and curls up on it, ignoring how uncomfortable it is to be pressed up against the old, splintered wood. He gives himself a moment to let his breathing slow down, still riding off the adrenaline from running so much so fast. 

He isn’t sure how long he’s been laying on the bench looking like a homeless person, but eventually someone sits down on the bench with him.

“Hey. You okay?”

Patrick looks up and meets Pete’s eyes, then looks away again. He’s suddenly hyper-aware that he’s been crying. He sighs. “Honestly? No.”

“Sit up.” Pete says, and pulls him upright, so he doesn’t exactly have a choice. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” Patrick says decisively, letting himself curl into Pete’s side a bit.

“Are you going to anyway?” Pete asks.

Patrick laughs bitterly. “You know me too well.”

“Mhm.” Pete nods, draping an arm around Patrick’s shoulders. “So...tell me, what exactly is bothering you?”

“It’s just...this is so...I feel like she should’ve told us.” Patrick mutters, burrowing into Pete’s side a little more. His mind is screaming at him that if this was already too much when Pete was just his (questionably straight) best friend, it should be _way_ too much now that he knows Pete is really his _twin brother_. But Patrick decides that he’s just going to ignore his mind right now

“Yeah, I know.” Pete sighs. “But you’ve got to cut her some slack, okay? She didn’t even know until a few months ago, remember? And we’ve been in a band together for over a decade, so it would’ve been a bit awkward...”

Patrick huffs indignantly. “Exactly! Why put off telling us if she knew? She didn’t think it would ever come up? That’s stupid. We could have...we could have both died not knowing we were _twins_.”

“If it makes you feel any better...” Pete begins, tightening his arm around Patrick’s shoulder. Then he mumbles something unintelligible.

“What?” Patrick asks, turning to meet Pete’s eyes.

“You’re older by three minutes.” Pete repeats, looking extremely embarrassed about it.

Patrick tries not to, but he can’t help but break into a grin. “Ha! You can’t hold your age over my head anymore!”

Pete laughs. “Uh, yeah. Your...my... _our_ mom thought that would cheer you up.”

Patrick rolls his eyes. “I will begrudgingly admit that it worked.”

“Hey, I just realized that Joe is actually _so_ much younger than the rest of the band.” Pete points out, grinning.

Patrick has to laugh at that. “Aw, poor Joe.” Then he pauses, grin falling off his face. “We...we’re going to have to tell Andy and Joe at some point, aren’t we?”

Pete’s smile falls too. “Oh yeah...that might be an important thing to mention. ‘Hey guys, just by the way, we’re actually twins’. Yep. Pretty important.”

Patrick winces a bit at that. He still isn’t quite used to the fact that Pete, his best friend for so long, is his twin brother. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be used to it.

“You okay?” Pete asks, giving him a soft smile.

“A little more okay now, I think.” Patrick answers, giving a half-genuine smile back.

“Good.” Pete says, and his smile widens. He pulls Patrick into a tight hug. 

“Yeah. Good.” Patrick says into Pete’s neck, because Pete is holding his head there and won’t let go.

“So...you want to go back and try to talk to...our...mom again?” Pete asks.

Patrick suddenly stiffens and jerks out of Pete’s grip. He bites his lip so hard it bleeds a little, the metallic taste just barely touching his tongue. “Uh, no. I would not like to do that, thank you very much.”

Pete frowns. “Are you sure? Because-”

“No.” Patrick says with ultimate certainty. “I think we should go back to the hotel.”

“But-” Pete begins, but Patrick cuts him off again.

“I said I think we should go back to the hotel, Pete.” He repeats, giving Pete another death glare. He’s been giving people death glares a lot today.

“Right.” Pete mutters, getting up suddenly. “Fine. Whatever.”

Patrick quickly stands up too. “Pete, I didn’t mean-”

“I know you didn’t.” Pete mutters, starting to walk away.

“Pete, the hotel is back the other way.” Patrick calls after him.

Pete pivots on his heels and stalks back in Patrick’s direction, passing him without another word. Patrick sighs dramatically and follows, eyes trained on the ground.

Yeah, being twins is going just _great_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)
> 
> oh boy I love writing drama


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God damn I like writing angsty stuff (oh yeah, and Andy and Joe know now)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember this? I wrote another chapter. 
> 
> Enjoy.

Patrick pushes open the hotel's front door that Pete had just slammed in his face, and follows his enraged twin ( _yikes_ ) into the lobby. 

Andy and Joe appear to have been hanging out in the lobby, possibly waiting for Pete and Patrick to return. Andy is engrossed in come random tabloid with a cover proclaiming that Beyoncé is an alien, and Joe is busy with some game on his phone. 

They both look up when Pete storms in angrily, followed by Patrick.

Andy gives them a questioning look. "Hey, what happened?"

"Nothing." Pete responds, glaring at Andy, and it's honestly really obvious that something did happen. 

"What, did you make some life-changing discovery in the attic?" Joe asks, and judging by his tone and the little giggle he lets out after asking, he's joking, but it's not a joke to Pete and Patrick. 

"Fuck off." Patrick says haughtily, narrowing his eyes as he stares Joe down. 

Joe puts his hands up. "Whoa, chill, I was kidding! The hell could you even find in your mom's attic? A long-lost twin?"

Knowing he'll regret it later, Patrick punches Joe. Hard. 

"Whoa!" Andy springs into action and pushes the two apart. "Calm down. Joe was kidding, Patrick. You don't have a long-lost twin."

Patrick turns to glare at Pete, who glares right back. 

"Do you know what's happening?" Joe asks Andy, frowning at the two holding each other's stares. 

Andy shakes his head. "I wish."

Patrick and Pete walk slowly towards each other like they're in an old western movie, staying eye to eye the whole time. Patrick knows what's going to happen next, he just doesn't know who's going to throw the first punch. He wonders briefly if twins normally fight this often, but then his train of thought is interrupted when he finds out who's going to throw the first punch. 

"Ow! Asshole!" He hisses, rubbing the side of his face and stumbling back a little. 

"Fight me." Pete hisses back, looking ready to commit murder. That's not a good sign. 

"Okay." Patrick says, immediately regretting it, then goes to punch Pete back. 

Pete catches his wrist mid-swing. "I'm taller!"

"I'm older!" Patrick automatically replies.

"By three minutes!" Pete yells back, letting go of Patrick's wrist. 

"By three inches!" Patrick shoots back, then pauses. "Okay, maybe it's more like two-"

He's cut off by getting punched again. Fun. That'll bruise. 

"Any idea?" Joe asks Andy again, off to the side. 

"None whatsoever." Andy sighs. 

"You're adopted!" Patrick yells, and immediately regrets it, because oops. That's gotta be a sensitive topic. 

Pete looks ready to kill not one, but multiple men now. Yeah, bad idea. "Oh, fuck you!"

"That's incest!" Patrick unhelpfully informs him, dodging his badly aimed punch. 

"You're a terrible brother!" Pete practically screams, tackling Patrick to the floor.

"You're worse!" Patrick replies, and they end up tumbling across the hotel floor, attracting quite a lot of attention from everyone in the lobby. 

The two stop when they hit Joe and Andy's feet. Untangling themselves, they both look up to their bandmates, who are both giving them something akin to stern looks. 

"I think you two might have something to tell us." Andy says steadily, raising an eyebrow. 

Patrick laughs nervously. "Uh...maybe just a little something."

Yeah, the only insults they'd used during that fight had been ones relating to being twins. Whoops. 

"Yeah, Patrick, what the hell do you mean you're older? You aren't." Joe says. He seems to be more than a little clueless. 

Patrick laughs nervously. "Uh...I kind of am."

"By three minutes!" Pete repeats insistently. He seems determined to prove that three minutes isn't a notable age difference. 

A look of realization dawns on Andy's face. "Oh. You two...what?"

Joe still looks confused as fuck.

"Um, yeah." Pete says, sitting up, and Patrick does the same. 

He laughs nervously. "Yeah, so, that's a thing we found out today."

"I don't get it." Joe frowns, crossing his arms. 

Andy sighs. "Why don't you two explain to poor Joe what's going on?"

"Were you even listening to us?" Pete asks, rolling his eyes. "Y'know, how about the part of that ridiculous fight where I called Patrick a terrible brother?"

Joe frowns, calculating. "But you aren't..." His eyes widen. "Are you?"

"Yeah." Patrick answers, getting back onto his feet. When Pete reaches out for help, he doesn't give it. 

"Twins." Pete elaborates, getting up on his own and throwing another glare at Patrick. 

"Okay, I'll be honest, I did not see that one coming." Joe says, sounding extremely amazed. 

"But you don't look alike at all!" Andy says, frowning. 

"That's what I said!" Patrick replies, at the same time Pete says, "We're _fraternal_ twins."

A sudden awkward silence falls. Pete and Patrick share a look, and Patrick whispers, "This is really happening, isn't it? Like...we're actually twins."

Pete nods, eyes widening. "I...yeah. We are. Yikes."

They stand there for a few moments, just staring at each other. Then Andy clears his throat. 

"Okay, it's nice that you two are letting this sink in, but I have an important question." He says. 

"Yes?" Pete and Patrick both ask, then share a look. Patrick had heard about twins speaking in unison sometimes and thought it was cool, but in reality, it's actually just creepy. 

Andy looks extremely serious, but then breaks into a grin. "Patrick is seriously _older_?"

"Three minutes!" Pete repeats desperately, holding up three fingers for emphasis. Three!"

Patrick can't help but laugh. 

~*~

"Patrick, it's hot." Pete complains, lackadaisically throwing a pillow across the gap between the two hotel beds and somehow failing to actually hit Patrick. 

"Shut up." Patrick replies, not moving his eyes from the TV. It's the last ten seconds of _Chopped_ , and anyone, even Pete, should have the decency not to interrupt when one of the chefs hasn't even started plating yet. 

"But the AC is broken in our room!" Pete continues, the whiny tone of his voice only getting worse. 

"I know. And what do you expect me to do about it?" Patrick asks, rolling his eyes as one of the chefs onscreen forgets a basket ingredient. "You know, I think I finally understand why people complain so much about their younger brothers."

"Hey!" Pete complains, and this time his pillow projectile manages to lightly land on Patrick's chest. 

The two had actually tried to get out of sharing a hotel room, and Joe had agreed, making a joke about destructive sibling rivalry, but Andy had said they had to, so they had to. You just don't mess with Andy Hurley. 

"It's _hot_." Pete repeats, and a third pillow doesn't even make it to Patrick's bed. 

Patrick doesn't even reply this time, just pretends to be paying attention to some ridiculous McDonald's commercial. He's done with Pete's bullshit. 

Then Pete starts _crying._

Patrick's head whips to face him. He's holding on to the last of his pillows and _sobbing_ into it. 

"Whoa, what happened?" Patrick asks, surprised and a little bit worried. 

Pete pulls his face out of the pillow and gives Patrick a sad look. "Patrick, we're _twins._ "

Patrick nods slowly. Sure, he hasn't quite come to terms with that fact, and maybe he never will, but he'll acknowledge that it's a fact. "Yes? Why are you crying?"

Pete gives him a look that means something like "isn't it obvious?", and answers, "Because everyone's been lying to us our _whole lives_."

Patrick chokes on his own breath a little. That's true, unfortunately. "Yes, but-"

Pete interrupts him. "Have you wondered how you ended up thinking you were _five years younger_ than you actually are?"

Patrick frowns. That's actually a good question. "Well, no...but-"

"And I'm _adopted_." Pete interrupts again. "Why did no one ever tell me?"

Patrick sighs and sits up in bed, turning his body so his legs are dangling off the edge of the bed (not quite touching the floor, damn his height) and he's facing Pete. "Hey. It's fine. It's okay."

"But it's not!" Pete suddenly yells, and chokes out another sob, curling in on himself again. 

Patrick bites his lip. He struggles to deal with Pete when he's like this, and he's far out of practice anyway. "Hey. Um. Okay. Maybe it's not okay. But we can still deal with it, right? Nothing's really...changed, per se. More like we just know more than we did before. And I'll always be here. Okay?"

Pete takes a shaky breath and pulls his head out of his pillow, looking over to Patrick. "Right. Okay...you promise?"

Patrick laughs quietly, smiling softly. "I promise."

"Good. Now I'm just going to pretend we're not related at all." Pete says, pushing his face into his pillow again. 

Patrick sighs. "Yeah. Okay."

He wishes he could pretend that too.


End file.
